Rigmarole
by Black Magik Woman
Summary: I am adopting Kate Vaughn's little storytelling game here. Teddy/Jo pairing with a bunch of delicious twists and turns supplied by fellow writers.
1. Black Magik Woman

**A/N:** This piece is set soon after the conclusion of Part One.

Disclaimer - As usual, these characters don't belong to me.

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Jo's face was furrowed with concentration. Her long, lean frame folded over her tin writing desk in the garret. Following several consecutively successful stories in the Spread Eagle, Jo's mind has been a continual hotbed of activity. New stories, sensational stories taking place in faraway lands cropped up in her head faster than her bed of sunflowers in her summer garden plot. The paper and more importantly, her audience, clamored for more, and like Scheherezade, Jo dutifully spun tales to keep her king happy.

Meals were tasted and forgotten. Sleep marked the passage of one chapter to the next as Jo pushed for "just one more" before slumber shut her eyes. If it weren't for dear Beth, Jo would have not taken a breath of fresh air in weeks. For only her Bethy alone could coax Jo out of the garret. And Jo was the only one the beloved invalid would allow to bear her up for her daily outing.

Meg had begun her preparations of becoming a housewife under the guidance of Hannah and Marmee. Amy now spent much of her time at Aunt March's since Beth's illness. Mr. and Mrs. March have agreed to step back and allow Jo's genius to burn, as Amy's caricature later so fittingly captioned. Life's lessons have always been most effective when unfolded at their own pace, so with the help of Hannah, Mr. and Mrs. March kept the household running like clockwork despite the marked absence of Jo's jovial presence.

Which leaves Laurie. Jo's "dear boy" has felt the neglect most acutely, having the door shut in his face followed by a muffled "Go away, Teddy." countless times. Beth's gentle company and the Marches' unflagging hospitality were a comfort and a welcome to break to his studies, yet he missed his girl. Laurie would be leaving for college in a few months and he felt that his limited time at home must be spent with the one whose company he craved.

This particular day was no different from the rest. Jo's pen was frenetically scratching away upstairs, while Laurie lay on the rug down below. He had been entertaining Beth with stories of his own, and had now fallen silent. Beth frowned at his blue mood, for she didn't like seeing those she loved unhappy. She tentatively placed a hand on his shoulder and suggested, "Perhaps you would like to go upstairs and visit Jo?"

Laurie smiled at Beth's suggestion, and glumly replied, "What's the point? She'll just shoo me away like all the other times."

"But what if she didn't have a choice?"

Laurie regarded Beth with a raised eyebrow. Did shy little Beth have a plan?

*******

Jo was the picture of one completely absorbed in her work. Her cap was askew atop a disheveled head. Her hands and scribbling suit was blotched and smeared with ink. A plate and cup containing a half-eaten breakfast lay at her feet. Several broken pen nubs and discarded paper with half-thought scribblings littered around her desk. Jo paid no mind to Scrabble's constant patterings overhead, and paid even less attention to a quick and purposeful step on the garret stairs. When Jo did look up, her story became forgotten and her eyes went wide with surprise.

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**A/N**: With life's other commitments and constant writers' block, I decided to adopt my own version of Kate Vaughn's game here, hence the title. I'm calling upon you gentle readers and fellow LW fanfic writers to help keep this story going! In you're interested in taking up the next chapter, please PM me. The next chapter will go to the first PM I receive. Also, you are welcome to contribute more than once (I'll pitch in a chapter here and there myself), the only thing is that the writer cannot contribute two consecutive chaps. I will not edit new chapters coming in (unless requested!) and will credit each contributor. I really enjoy reading the different stories/perspectives here, and thought it would be fun for us all to collaborate on one project. Intriguing idea, no? Let's see if we can keep this story going throughout the year! :)


	2. rese

**A/N:** Many thanks to rese! This chapter is truly a treat. :)

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Jo was literally speechless, and though she had not spared five words in the past week the sudden powerlessness to articulate herself over the picture before her left her gaping.

"Jo, we're getting married," announced her tall neighbour covered in lace. Behind Laurie stood Beth, mouth twitching under a painted moustache and she coughed before adding, "today if you please!"

Still gaping Jo looked Laurie up and down several times, sure not to forget any inch of the boy wearing her very best dress done half-up with a smattering of Meg's stain shining his lips. Laurie gave her his most excellent 'serious' look and Beth stood with her head held high, grasping their neighbour's hand tightly with her borrowed top-hat sitting skewed on her dark head. Jo honestly couldn't say she'd wanted to laugh as much at any point in her life as she had right then.

And by Jove did she laugh.

Doubled over on her chair Jo clutched her sides and laughed and laughed until tears started pouring down her angular cheeks. All thought of stories and plot or romance and characterisation flew out of her head and the heavy weight of expectation and promise lifted off her shoulders. Jo was laughing away and Laurie and Beth begun to congratulate each other.

"Well done, Bethy! Shook her right out of it, I'll say."

"Never'd thought it'd be so easy," rose-cheeked Beth released a breath in relief, taking Laurie's proffered hand to shake whilst smiling at the rolling figure of her sister.

"Oh you should've seen your face Teddy!" Jo cried, wiping tears from her eyes. "Oh Beth, that moustache is too much!" she laughed out the last bursts before finding her stained hands on her knees and her sister and best friend waiting patiently.

"Oh no, I can't," Jo said quickly, realising what they were waiting for. "No, Bethy you know I have to finish these stories." Still they waited, Laurie giving her a look she knew well. "I have to! You don't understand!"

"No I don't," Laurie did his best job of looking disappointed which was quite successful considering the knee-length dress and inexpertly applied make-up. "I don't understand why you would upset Beth so." He gestured to Jo's sister, knowing he wasn't playing nicely using her sister's health to entice Jo out-of-doors with him.

Jo's face immediately sobered and she watched her sister carefully with eyes Beth secretly despised in her rare moments of self-pity late at night. Pushing Laurie in front of her again, she hoped he would change tactics fast.

"Please, please, please Jo dear? The sun is begging, your legs will be aching for a stretch and well… please? For me?" Laurie pouted effectively, falling at her knees with clasped hands and watery eyes all in fine form. With wheedling as legendary as his Laurie quickly found Jo caving, her resolve weakening not only in her eyes but slouched shoulders too.

"Oh, alright," Jo gave in, a flush at her weakness for the boy before her colouring her cheek as she spoke, brushing him off hastily. "You have me, but you cannot have my dress. Go on, off with it."

"What? Here?" Laurie looked about the garret as innocently as possible, already tugging the unfitted shoulder down in jest. Beth smiled and Jo hit him in the other shoulder, heading out of the garret with her younger sister in tow.

"Wait! Where are you going?"

Jo's head appeared around the door for a second, a mysterious smile spreading across her face, "You'll see."


	3. Ch 3 Black Magik Woman

Laurie peered into the looking glass, scrutinizing his reflection with a critical eye. He wanted to make sure every last trace of rouge had been wiped away. Once satisfied, his eye fell on the reflection of the doorway opposite and he frowned thoughtfully. It had been nearly an hour since Jo disappeared with Beth in tow. What could possibly be keeping her? He had to admit, Beth's little idea was quite brilliant. Laurie smiled at the recollection of the insanely mismatched pair he and Beth portrayed. Who knew the family angel had a deviant streak? And the plan worked. Jo had at last left the garret!

Of course, now she was holed up in her room. Laurie glanced impatiently at the doorway leading to the stairs. When Jo disappeared with that mysterious twinkle in her eye, Laurie retreated back to the parlor to gallantly wait. And wait…

Laurie wandered over to the window and looked out onto the Marches' lawn. Winter was beginning to recede, and he thought he could see little buds forming on the trees. The snow had melted away in a week of unusually mild weather, but now the pre-spring chill had returned. Perhaps he should have gone back home to retrieve Puck and the carriage. It may be too cold for a ramble.

He was so preoccupied with such thoughts, that he almost didn't hear a step in the hall. Laurie spun around. His breath caught and his lifetime of good breeding couldn't repress his stare.

Jo stood in the doorway, her sharp gray eyes watching Laurie with uncharacteristic uncertainty. She was dressed in a smartly tailored gray wool walking suit that accentuated her form most becomingly. A long crimson scarf looped about her throat and trailed along her back added a bright swath of color. Her heavy hair was pinned up under a jaunty hat of the same gray fabric, trimmed with crimson ribbon, and brand new boots peeped from below the slightly sweeping hem.

"Oh dear! Perhaps I should change," Jo exclaimed, beginning to back away. "I must look a total goose!"

"Certainly not!" Laurie burst out a bit more forcefully than he intended, which made Jo start. Laurie took a breath and hastily added, "I was just surprised by the transformation. Please don't go away, ma'am. You look rather…." And Laurie gestured, trying to find the right words. "Rather…splendid."

"I was feeling rather impulsive," Jo began. "With _The Hidden Bride_'s earnings in my pocket, I fancied this frock in the shop. It seemed like a refreshing change from that inky stuff gown I'm always wearing."

"Jo looks quite grand," Beth clapped her hands with girlish delight. She had slipped into the room unnoticed.

"Not quite," Jo dipped her head, slightly embarrassed. "But thank you, Bethy. I do feel rather odd not wearing my scribbling suit, but this get up is actually very comfortable and I feel rather humanized."

"Welcome back to humanity," Laurie intoned with theatrical gravity. He did his best bow with a melodramatic flourish and presented the crook of his arm. "Shall I reacquaint you, mademoiselle?"

"Don't be a goose, Teddy!" Jo laughed as she playfully pinched his arm.

Laurie showed her a roguish grin as he caught her hand and tucked it in his elbow, glad she didn't withdraw. He held his hand out to Beth. "Joining us?"

Beth put both hands behind her back and shook her head. "No, thank you, Laurie. It's too chilly for me today."

Jo raised her eyebrows. "Maybe I should stay here then."

"No, no," Beth quickly replied. "I'm perfectly content. Please enjoy yourself, Jo. You've been shut up for too long."

"I do worry for my girl," Jo commented with a sigh as the two friends strolled down the walk, with Beth smiling happily at them from the window.

"She is in good spirits today," Laurie reassured her, as he turned and tipped his hat cheerfully towards Beth before guiding Jo down the street.

"I do thank the two of you for getting me out of the house," Jo said. "A brisk turn in fresh air will do me a world of good."

"I'm glad of it!" Laurie smiled, and the pair continued on their way, with no particular destination in mind.

They chatted and laughed with comfortable ease, and Jo truly missed her boy's company. Passerby smiled at the congenial couple, who were quite oblivious to the rest of the world. Before long, they found themselves before a familiar, inviting stretch of sloping land. Being in a reminiscent mood, Jo smiled wryly, remembering how last fall, Laurie had convinced her that a race down that hill would be just the thing to clear her troubled mind. Without waiting for Laurie to finish his lively description of the quaint villages tucked in the Swiss Alps, Jo took off in a run joyfully crowing over her shoulder, "I'll race you to the bottom!"

Quickly recovering from the second shock Laurie received from Jo today, Laurie gave a quick shout of laughter before chasing Jo down the hill. Off Jo's hat flew, in addition to dozens of hairpins as her thick hair unfurled like a banner. By the time Jo's scarf dislodged, Laurie had pulled abreast of his friend. No sooner did he outpace her, did Laurie hear a surprised exclamation of "Christopher Columbus!" And as he quickly turned, Jo pitched forward right into his chest and the pair tumbled down the hill. Laurie caught the brunt of the impact of falling to the ground and instinctively wrapped his arms around Jo in a protective manner as their combined momentum threw them down the hill. Their terrified exclamations soon gave way to hysterical laughter as the friends tumbled further before coming to a stop near a bank of trees.

Out of breath, Laurie gently patted Jo on the shoulder and asked if she was all right. Jo, meanwhile, was muttering about how her spool-heeled boots were highly inappropriate for a race since the heel had caught on her hem.

Jo paused and found herself staring to a pair of dark eyes glittering with a mixture of concern and merriment. She colored fiercely upon realizing she was draped across Laurie in the most undignified and indecorous fashion. As she tried to pull away, Laurie's arms tightened slightly, and Jo felt an unfamiliar thrill run down her spine. She felt exhilarated and…. frightened. Strangely, not frightened of what she saw in Laurie's eyes, but frightened that she rather liked this new feeling.

Her eyes dropped to Laurie's mouth and felt an irresistible pull. Dare she come closer?

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**A/N:** A Valentine for my fellow Laurie/Jo fans. :) OK, who's next? What's going to happen now??


	4. Ch 4 dream's sister

**A/N:** A hundred thank you's to dream's sister for this speedy contribution!! More Laurie/Jo goodness to be had. :)

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Laurie couldn't help but smirk a very little bit as he watched Jo's expression, hovering over him. Unfortunately, the smirk seemed about to bring her to her senses, and as she blinked he said swiftly, "Jo, you've a leaf in your hair. Just up here—" he raised a hand to her forehead.

"Have I?" she said confusedly, her eyes instinctively flicking upwards and straining to see. "I'm covered in all manner of rubbish, I'm sure, and my new suit will be completely—"

A sudden movement from her companion interrupted her as Laurie, tugging her closer, took advantage of her distraction by pulling her face down to his and cutting her sentence off abruptly. For a brief moment or two, his lips, surprisingly warm, pressed against hers, and the leaf (which she fleetingly realized was probably fictional) was entirely forgotten—then all of a sudden Jo recognized just what was happening, and pulled away with speed. "Teddy!" she gasped, "what, exactly, do you think you are doing?"

Laurie raised his eyebrows. "Well, Jo dear, at the moment I'm not doing anything, thanks to you."

"Don't 'Jo dear' me, you rascal! You know perfectly well what I meant."

He looked up at her innocently. "What could I be doing? I happen to be pinioned."

Jo glared at the boy lying beneath her. "Stop that," she commanded sharply.

"Stop what?"

"Being infuriating."

Laurie suppressed a laugh with difficulty. "Me? Infuriating?"

"Yes, you."

"You must be joking."

"Truly! Do you make a habit of kissing the girls you fall down hills with instead of helping them up?"

"Certainly not. All the other girls I know are too proper to fall down hills. Anyway, I wouldn't really call that a kiss, it would have to be a bit longer—"

"Teddy!" Thoroughly irritated by Laurie's dancing eyes and calm expression, Jo, rendered temporarily speechless, gesticulated wildly with open mouth and red face.

"Yes?" the infuriating boy said mildly.

"You…you—I—oh, Jehosephat!" And with that exclamation Jo threw propriety—or what was left of it—to the winds, shocking Laurie for the third time that day by seizing his face and kissing him soundly. He stiffened and made a strangled sort of noise as his arms came up in surprise; but after only a moment of astonishment he gave in wholeheartedly, and Jo felt a curious warmth spread from the pit of her stomach as his mouth moved against hers. It felt a little like falling, and with her eyes closed and the distracting pressure of Laurie's lips, she wouldn't have been able to tell you which way was up.

Laurie sighed, and Jo, suddenly realizing with a start the effect she was having on him, grinned to herself. She let her mouth linger on his for a moment or two longer before, forgetting her own disorientation, she rose to her elbows, pushing him away mischievously. With one eyebrow quirked, she asked breathlessly, "Long enough for you?"

Laurie, grinning all over his face, had just opened his mouth to respond when—

"Ahem," came a sudden voice from behind them.

Jo slid off Laurie in shock, landing with a bump and twisting to look around. Upon taking in the view, she turned red as a poppy before paling again with alarming speed.

"Oh, tarnation," she mumbled.


	5. Ch 5 Mariagoner

**A/N - **Thank you tons to Mariagoner for contributing Ch. 5. Jo is certainly in a doozy in this one! I wonder how she'll work herself out of this. :)

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Once upon a lark, before they had made the mistake of groping each other in public shamelessly, Jo and Laurie had spent an entire evening wondering what Judgment Day would look like whenever it finally came.

Jo, on the whole, tended to be a staunch traditionalist when it came to matters as tinged by religion. Though she wasn't particularly pious in and of herself, several of the more hallucinogenic chapters of the Lord's Good Book had often been the only barrier between herself and insanity during her visits at Aunt March's, which led her to often romanticizing the traditional signs of the beast, down even to picturesquely tri-eyed oxen. She sometimes embroidered on these signs during her rambles with her friend but on the whole, Jo was happy to quietly revisit some of the more theatrical passages she had read by prophets, albeit occasionally allowing her imagination to fancifully add pirates to the mix.

Laurie, for his part, was ever the tenderly teasing nuisance. He tended to pout rather pathetically whenever Jo whimsically murmured about the musculature of whatever pirates might come about, and distract her by wondering about whether they would also be visited by equally comely piratical wenches. Furthermore, he would often go on to claim that given how vexed he was by the women-folk in his life, the four horsemen of the apocalypse might well turn out to be horse_women_... and ones who rambled on just as nonsensically as the budding artist by his side at that.

This naturally became Jo's signal to hit him and make him start speaking some manner of sense again, a friendly violation of his physical integrity that Laurie always took with good grace.

But as Jo's disbelieving eyes slowly panned from a pair of well-shined shoes to the crisp fall of a gray muslin skirt to the stiff necklace of lace lying against a wrinkled neck, she realized the truth-- and nothing but the truth-- about how the world would end.

Judgment Day, when it came, would require no screams from the damned or unfurling carpets of gold and silver grass to announce itself. It would need no men or women on pale horses, no gay angels trumpeting in the distance, no hand of God breaking through the clouds to help all faithful pilgrims in their progress.

All it would need to signal the end of the world, Jo realized as her vital organs threatened to migrate outside her skin, was the look now currently wreathing her dear aunt's face as she caught sight of her niece disgracing the family name.

---

Laurie being Laurie, he was the first one to break the very, very, _very_ long and uncomfortable silence that came after it. If fondling her in full view of the world had been error one, this would be his second mistake.

"Well," he finally muttered, after Jo had turned several exciting variations on scarlet and completely scrambled away from him, "it's... it's... well, it's very nice to meet you once again, Mrs. March. Beautiful day, isn't it? I mean, really, quite amazing! The blue-birds fluttering and the spring coming about in a manner so queenly... truly makes a man glad to be alive, doesn't it?"

Even Jo, her face the color of the begonias rising up behind them, had to wince at the unnerving false cheer in his voice. Any hope that she had had to extracting herself from this situation with ease began to die down painfully.

And it's death rattle was only prolonged by the silence answered him from Aunt March's end. The frigid, frigid, sub-arctic silence. If a man could be glad to be alive on a day such as this, any young woman he was cavorting with and old women who might have stumbled on said cavorting certainly couldn't agree with his optimism.

But Laurie still being Laurie, he wasn't willing to let that clear signal deter him. That was mistake number three. Eyes shining with a hope that Jo rather desperately would be squelched out of him before the situation got any worse, he went on. "And-- and-- and look at this gorgeous vista that the Lord has granted us, Mrs. March! Those-- those trees! These woods! All the splendors of man and God that we currently see! Surely your walk through the greens has already exposed you to so many lovely views already!"

Left unsaid was his high-pitched wish that perhaps the lovely views would calm Jo's aunt into perhaps not reporting what she had just seen to their respective guardians.

But then, Jo knew that Laurie-- dear, sweet, desperately hopeful Laurie!-- had no idea of what rich, widowed aunts were capable of in their wrath. Mistake number four, by her reckoning.

From Aunt March's end, frigid silence resumed its cool, mirrored stance. And with her head down, Jo made mistake number five almost looking forward to whatever the old battle-axe might have to finally say-- only to change her mind when Aunt March did just that. "The view was quite lovely when I began my walk but alas. The hopeful prospect of having a lovely evening sadly shifted on me just when I found the two of you doing... whatever it was that you were doing. With each other. And with _my_ niece. On _your_ lap. Gyrating. Quite. _Shamelessly_."

Jo rather wished her Aunt March didn't have such a flair for emphasis or dramatics. But then again, Jo also found herself wishing for a swift and painless death by the end of that last reiteration of her shamelessness. And from what Jo knew of her dear relation, the latter would come around far sooner than the former, whatever the mortified nieces of the world might otherwise wish.

"Truly," Aunt March went on, her tone as dry as the Sahara during a drought, "I wish more than anything that my otherwise pleasant view hadn't intersected with your persons. I have the strangest intuition that the three of us would have been best off if the two of you had actually managed to practice some discretion."

From where she had her shoulders hunched up and her head down, Jo could only agree with a fervency that would have shocked anyone who knew what she usually thought of her distant relation.

"Ah, well then," Laurie heroically carried on in mistake number six, although a sideways view from the corner of Jo's eyes confirmed that his face was no longer its original color either. "I am very sorry to hear that, Mrs. March. Both Jo-- er-- Miss. March and I are very... very terribly... exceedingly terribly... astonishingly unquestionably..."

"You may," Aunt March said archly, after Laurie's mouth engaged on auto-pilot for another minute longer, "cease with the adjectives presently. I hope you do not find yourself believe that they are actually_ convincing_ me."

"And Miss. March is as well," Laurie ended in a panicked rush, his bravado collapsing abruptly as he stared into eyes that seemed to be know what he would look like skewered on a spit in the afterlife. "Aren't you, Jo, dear?"

Oh yes. _Absolutely._

"Ahahaha," Jo managed, in a kind of high-pitched gurgle, before her self-preservation instincts snapped into play. It would not do to keep the Inquisitor of her family waiting while she tried in vain to grope for a semi-plausible excuse or reason to commit mistake number seven. "Ahaha, yes. Yes, Ted-- Mr. Laurence is speaking nothing more than the truth! I am sorry-- so, so, _so _very sorry-- that you had to... to... to stumble on what you... stumbled on... today. You see, Mr. Laurence and I were just... well, we were... were..."

"Rehearsing," Laurie interjected in, somewhat frantically, compounding their comedy of errors with mistake number eight.

"Yes!" Jo cried out, grasping at the word as though it were all that kept her from being incinerated by her aunt's fiery moral character, which seemed on the verge of waving a torch already. "We were-- rehearsing for a play and-- well, one of the parts was quite-- er-- quite passionate and--"

Aunt March's voice was once again as dry as the desert and twice as arid when she interrupted coldly. Some hysterical part of Jo found itself wondering if she had to practice that in her spare time and if so, would she be willing to give lessons in sounding so very arch eventually?

"No, Josephine. Please don't bother with excuses that only insult my intelligence. It's one thing to... how do you say... 'pal around' with an old chum during the holidays... and quite another to throw yourself at him like a shameless hussy. I know you've long had the misbegotten idea of using your pen instead of a husband to make your way into the world, but this is enough to appall even _me_. Young man, precisely what are your intentions towards my niece and how long have you been plotting to compromise her virtue as you've done here?"

Beside her, Laurie gave a rather ** cry, as though he were an old world nun contemplating the thought of being pillaged by vikings periodically.

Right now, Jo found with a twinge in her breast, she could sympathize perfectly.

Plucking up the remnants of her courage, she tried to salvage the situation before Laurie was accused of everything short of plotting to trap her in the woods and ravish her dainty little self shamelessly. Thus did she stumble into mistake number nine-- attempting to explain everything away logically. "T-truly, Aunt March... this isn't what it seems! We, ah, we haven't been engaging in anything shameless or... ah... misbegotten or... um... compromising to my, erm, virtue either! We-- we have a perfectly good excuse for this!"

And as soon as she could use her flexible imagination to think of one, Jo would be happy to supply it easily.

But as her Aunt March's eyes gazed at her the fire of a thousand children lightly drenched in kerosene and given a set of matches to play with, Jo realized that noble brain-- usually so creative when she needed it to be--seemed to have ceased functioning.

And in her desperation, she committed the gravest mistake of the evening by turning to the very last person she ought to have. "You see, Aunt March-- Mr. Laurence will now tell you just _why_ we were doing what we were doing!"

Which was, given the feelings that her friend had long since harbored towards her, not quite the most intelligent thing a young literary spinster could have committed herself to. Especially not if she wanted to commit to the 'literary' part of her being.

And so Laurie, being Laurie, managed to somehow find that one magic combination of syllables and words that would make tumbling around with Jo in the grass all that much more mad in the end.

"You see," Laurie said quite earnestly, somehow finding the time to fling a surprisingly tight arm about Jo's stiff form, "I've been paying court to your lovely niece for the longest time, practically since I moved next door. And the only reason my otherwise impeccably virtuous lips met hers was because I have finally met my endeavor! Oh, Mrs. March-- or rather, Aunt March, as you will soon be to me... your niece has finally decided to marry me. In such a situation, I am sure even _you_ would concede that a bit of harmless tumbling in the grass would be understandable! In fact, it's nearly fortunate you came upon us when you did. Now I will have the chance to gain your blessing."

And it was then, as Jo turned her jolted neck away from the wide eyes of her aunt into a dark, glittering gaze brighter than she had expected, that she realized that mistake number ten of the day was going to complicate her life considerably.


	6. Ch 6 Black Magik Woman

**A/N: **Please forgive the spelling/grammatical errors that you'll certainly find in my submission. Inspiration struck late and I couldn't rest until I posted this up. There readers/potential writers, I bounce the ball back into your court. :)

* * *

Aunt March drew her lips into a thin line and coldly regarded one flushed face to another. She then pulled her mantle close, drew herself to her full height, and without a scant bit of propriety (seems to be a running theme for the day!) turned heel and continued down the path without taking leave.

Jo felt the insult like a slap in the face, and dared not move a muscle till her aunt was fully out of sight. Once she was quite sure she and Laurie were alone, Jo blew her breath out, then turned her infamous wrath upon her companion.

"Oh! You rogue! You scoundrel! What in heaven's name gave you such a harebrained, ridiculous, preposterous, absurd—"

Laurie, to his credit, held up patiently to his friend's tirade even after just being subjected to the ire of the elder March relation, and let Jo vent her fury, punctuated by blows that didn't harm him one bit.

Once Laurie saw signs of the storm abating, he took a breath and tried to make himself as appealing as possible. "Now Jo, we were caught in a most unfortunate manner by a most unfortunate person. The proposal was the only reasonable, most _proprietous_ way to get ourselves out of this scrape. Surely, you _must _see some reason in that."

Jo couldn't help but admit to herself that Laurie was right. How else could their wanton behavior be explained without sullying either of their reputations so badly. Of course, were they actually betrothed, propriety dictates them being chaperoned, and they still couldn't indulge in such pleasures as freely unless sneaking away from the watchful eye of the said chaperone.

"And besides," Laurie continued, watching her eyes with the smallest atom of hope, "being engaged to me wouldn't be all that far fetched, wouldn't it?"

Jo colored up for the innumerable time that day at the recollection of exactly what she and Laurie were doing before being happened upon by Aunt March. Her insides roiled around with conflicting emotions.

"Teddy, I—" and Jo faltered with a loss of words.

Laurie watched Jo's different emotions play across her expressive face, and with a heroic effort to subdue his eagerness, he clasped Jo's hands in his and gave it a tender squeeze. "Say nothing of it for now," he said simply. "But," he added, stooping to give her a significant look, "I would very much like to know what your answer would be."

After collecting Jo's scattered property, and shifting themselves back to looking presentable, the pair continued to the March home.

Once at the house, Jo was extremely grateful that Laurie took his leave at the gate. Jo greeted her parents and Beth with quick kisses, and warily watched them to see if the scandalous news had reached their ears. Once satisfied they were quite unconscious of what had just happened, she retreated to the garret to mull over the many emotions felt that day.

"Christopher Columbus, this is quite a scrape!" Jo ruefully addressed Scrabble as she sat on the old sofa. "Oh how I wish things weren't changing so!" Jo paced the garret, quite agitated.

A soft knock and Beth's gentle voice broke Jo's reverie. "Jo, dear, would you like to come down and join us for supper?"

Jo blinked, and it took her several seconds to get her bearings. When did the sun go down? She opened the door and smiled at Beth, "Thank you Beth, I will." And followed her sister down the stairs.

Once at dinner, Jo lapsed back into her thoughts as her family carried on with dinner and exchanged glances at her pensive mood. It wasn't till later in the evening, when Jo found her mother sitting alone in "Marmee's Corner" did she finally open her lips to speak. Drawing a low stool close, Jo sat beside her mother. After a few uncharacteristic false starts, she began, "Marmee, may I speak to you in confidence?"

Marmee had spent much of the evening sharply watching Jo, and noted the change to her countenance since her outing with Laurie. "But of course, Jo," Marmee reached down to brush a wayward lock from Jo's forehead and clasped her hand. "What is on your mind?"

With eyes downcast, Jo related the events that happened that afternoon. When she briefly mentioned her kiss with Laurie, Jo was afraid of what her mother would think of her. Peeping up, she saw the familiar, beloved, patient face – so very unlike the severe, judgmental visage of her aunt. Gaining more confidence, she spoke more about her emotions, and her confusion. "Teddy is one of the most dearest people in the world to me, and there isn't anything I wouldn't do for him," Jo said with conviction. "But I don't know what he is to me now. Just this morning, he was my dearest friend, but now things have gotten muddled up and I feel all at sea."

"Do you think you could live with and love Laurie not only a friend, but a partner in life, and someone to someday raise a family with?" Marmee asked.

"I know we get along capitally," Jo said. "I love him so very much, but I am not sure if I can give him what he wants."

"You two are still quite young," Marmee replied. "As friends, you are excellently matched. As more than that, time will tell. I can't be the one to tell you what's in your heart. You should look into yourself, and pray for guidance. Above all, be patient and truly honest with yourself, for hearts never open by force."

"This is nothing like the heroines I write of!" Jo exclaimed. "It usually takes a swoon or a grand deed before everyone lives happily ever after."

"No Jo," Marmee chuckled. "Your stories are wonderful bits of fancy, but I'm afraid real love is more complicated than that."

"Now Marmee," Jo looked up at her mother. "I can't quite believe that Aunt March hadn't called on you after seeing…us, um… well, seeing us together. You _must've_ known something was afoot when I came home."

"Yes, your Aunt was here, and recounted what she saw to your father and me," Marmee said.

"I was afraid of getting a sound thrashing for not being proper," Jo confessed.

"I must admit that I was disappointed, Jo," Marmee said, drawing a quick look from her daughter. "But I wanted to hear your side of the story, and your feelings behind all that has happened."

"Thank you, Marmee," Jo laid her head on Marmee's knee. "There is still much more I need to sort out, but I am glad I can come to you to listen and for help."

"Never forget what I told you and Meg a year ago," Marmee gently stroked Jo's hair. "You and your sisters are always welcome into my confidence."

Mother and daughter sat this way for several moments, comfortable in each other's company. Presently, Jo stretched to her feet to get ready for bed.

"Jo, dear, there is one more thing," Marmee said.

"What is it Marmee?"

"Aunt March wishes for you to call upon her tomorrow morning after breakfast."

********

"Would Madame like more tea?"

"No, Esther, please take the tea things away," Aunt March addressed her maid brusquely.

The faithful servant, well accustomed to her mistresses many moods, merely curtsied and gathered the tea tray. At that moment, the bell rang and Jo was ushered into her Aunt's company.

"It is unladylike to slouch in the doorway, Josephine. Have a seat right there," Aunt March dictated to her niece.

Jo meekly sat in the seat opposite and awaited further orders. Aunt March regarded her niece for several moments. Amy had replaced Jo as Aunt March's daily companion, and although Amy was more genteel and better suited for society calls, Aunt March gruffly allowed that she did miss Jo's brash and lively company.

Despite her crotchety disposition, Aunt March did have a soft spot for her nephew's daughters. She was sorely disappointed in Meg's choice of husband, feeling that her eldest niece's beauty could have opened doors to an eligible match. Now her second eldest niece appears to be betrothed to a complete weathercock. Surely, the Laurences have a fortune, and Aunt March had no doubt Jo will live her days in complete comfort. Yet, she didn't regard this match with the neighbor to be suitable. After happening upon the two of them yesterday, Aunt March's fears were confirmed that Mr. Theodore Laurence would only encourage Jo's already wild behavior, and neither of them would appropriately act in manners that befits their station.

Aunt March had seen the error in her ways of trying to convince one niece to act in what's best for her well being, as evidenced by Meg resolutely intending to marry the poor tutor. Aunt March is determined not to make the same mistake with Jo. So instead of lecturing Jo on all the reasons why she isn't well matched with her neighbor, Aunt March had devised another tactic.

"I have called you here today because you are at the age where certain events you participate in will shape your future," Aunt March said.

Jo suppressed the desire to wince. She could almost feel the heat of the coals her Aunt was going to rake her over.

"Spring is coming in a few weeks, and as you know, I always make my tour with your Aunt Carroll. Although Aunt Carroll is capable, I will still need a younger, more energetic person to accompany me."

Jo looked up at her Aunt uncomprehendingly. This was not the lecture she was expecting.

"Josephine, I leave for Europe in two weeks, and I want you to come with me."


	7. Ch 7 Mariagoner

**A/N: **Thank you to Mariagoner for supplying this nice, long chapter! I really love this letter formatting since it's a great way to give two POV's at the same time. Hope you all enjoy! :)

* * *

1.

Dear Jo:

(--I would call you dearest except I quite feel you would almost definitely and quite painfully hit me--)

How goes the weather in Josephineland? I feel as though it seems loathe to reach into Laurenceville recently, leaving the place's unguarded borders very much wilted as of late. Letters have gone unanswered, notes have gone unreturned, bird-calls have brought forth nothing but feathered vengeance from above, and even the occasional pebble thrown against a window seems to bring nothing forth clearly. Have I, in the terrible, clumsy, ludicrous way I excel at so well, somehow offended you? Do leave word for your boy that this is not the case. The nights are **[dark splotches of ink paint the note, before smoothing back to regular words]** decidedly less interesting now that I have no friend to relay my entirely artistic agonies to!

Knowing that I may or may suffer your displeasure makes me decidedly cross, dear friend. Please at least let me know if I don't or do!

**[dark, crossed out word]**

Sincerely,

Laurie

P. S. Will I at least get a response if I climb back into your attic in another fancy dress, husband Beth by my side? Because Jo, I swear, if you don't respond soon, I'll resort to desperate measures. And you know how I get when I really want something. I swear, I'll do it too! With even more facial rouge!

---

2.

Dear Teddy:

(--And it's a good thing you didn't use dearest-- at the least, you can try and be a bit more creative. I think the appellation 'most queerest' fits me far in excess.)

Oh, I've been a brute to neglect you, haven't I? Forgive me, my boy, for being such a foolish boor. I swear, I've become as neglectful as any given father within a romance-- simply plunk a half-empty cask of ale down by my hand and I'll do. I feel terrible for not reaching to you. Only... oh, Teddy, I'm sorry but it feels as though my world has been turned topsy and turvy as of late. It's all gone so top-heavy that everything I thought was panning out seems to be on the verge of flying out of my arms and making a mess or-- or splattering about or possibly--

You see how ridiculous and scatter-brained I've gotten recently? I can't even come up with a decent metaphor for a cooking disaster, which is ridiculous given how much experience I've already had with those. I am absolutely ludicrous as of now because there seems to be so much going on and I simply have not found a way of how to deal with it without absolutely--

Teddy, you would laugh if you could see me but I swear, I am on the verge of losing my mind entirely! Please, please if you care for me at all, as a friend or** [further words covered up furiously with quill],** please give me a few more days of contemplation. I _will_ speak to you again, I swear it, only just not now.

Please Teddy. I'm not angry at you, not at all. And I _will _soon speak to you.

Only. I'm sorry, dear, this has nothing to do with you but it's only that for now, I need some room to think about the mess I've recently gotten myself into.

So please give me a little bit of time to think about what's going on. Please. As your friend, confidant and future colleague, I really do beg of you!

Your Friend,

Jo

P. S. You would get a response but it might well be an ungodly shriek up to the rafters and then my father rushing in with his old bayonet. You'd likely end up hurt or-- even worse-- catered to afterward. I thought you looked altogether much too lovely in a dress for your own good!

---

3.

Dear Jo:

All right then. It's been a few days. In fact, it's been more than that-- it's been almost another full week. And I don't want to be, and I don't meant to be, a brute to you, forcing answers from you, taking anything you don't wish to give so soon. No, I don't meant to follow that path. I would never, Jo, force you to do anything you didn't want to. If you want to stop replying at any time, if you need more time--

Only I miss you, Jo. I miss you and I worry. You've never been so silent before and every day, I see your silhouette and nothing more and I worry, surely stupidly, maybe desperately, as to what keeps you from me. If there is anything you need to tell me, Jo, you must know that you can say so honestly. I know that the past few days have not been easy and surely that basilisk of an aunt of yours must have told on the two of us and your parents must be worried about what sort of wicked enticements I may have given you previously. At the least, I know they must be watching you closely and that you may not even have much time to write anymore, may even be too afraid to see me.

However, we are still engaged-- perhaps not formally but as far as they know. Surely you can use this as an excuse to meet me again, even if you have to tell your parents that you are only doing so to **[dark blot of ink]** to break things off with me. I know we didn't begin this under the best of circumstances, Jo, and if you need a clean break, then I am willing to help you in any way necessary. Even if

**[another paragraph begin and is aborted, a shaky hand filling in all the letters until nothing can be seen]**

Jo, please don't leave me in the dark as to what is going on now. I need to know. I need to see you. Make whatever excuses you must. I will forgive you entirely.

**[an ink blot decorates a past word, and then]**

Sincerely,

Laurie

P. S. I've always loved your metaphors and even mixed ones are better than none at all. Fling them with as much wild abandon as you can-- you do so much better when you pay no attention to convention than when you let them paralyze you completely.

---

4.

Dear Teddy:

You shouldn't blame yourself. You are not at fault here. I know I have been the worst and falsest friend in the world as of late, but none of this reflects _you_. I will try and do better in the future and I swear, should you ever need a friend, a helping hand, a welcoming ear, a confidant, I am here. I am still that girl you met before, no matter what else happens or what different courses we follow, and I swear, whatever else I am, I am not fickle. For you, I can forever be that ridiculous girl who burnt all her dresses and wore only one glove and swore she would be an acting sensation on the stages of New York. For you, I will be constant and I will forever be sincere.

Whatever happens, I am still your friend. And indeed, the same is true for you with me. Outside of my own family, I've never had a better companion, or one who helped me so faithfully!

Only. Only I don't know if we should meet again in person. At least not for a while. Teddy, please, this is no slight. I don't mean to accuse you of anything. Only, every time we do see each other recently, something always happens. Something between my lips and your hands happen and

**[a furious obliteration of words begins, trailing out into the next few, barely visible inkings]**

And it is _because_ of our friendship that I think it might be better for us to forget of what happened on the day we met Aunt March-- to pretend, even, that it had never occurred. It's too strange otherwise and I don't want you to feel **[dark patch of ink, redacted text.]**

It complicates too much for us if we keep holding onto that fiction of being engaged, Teddy. I don't want you to feel obligated to me. You deserve better. Neither you nor I-- and especially not _you_, given what you've already been through-- deserve to be pushed into anything for which we are not ready!

I will see you again, Teddy, I swear. Only I think it might be better if we spend some time apart and let things between us-- cool previously.

Your Friend,

Jo

P. S. Even if I was upset at you, I would have forgotten it when it came to your praise of my metaphors. No compliment on earth could make me so happy!And with that kindness, it's fair, I imagine, you tell you something of what about you I've always **[word redacted, crossed out shakily]** liked as well. So let me try and be fair here.

Even despite all the ways we differ and flare and grapple with each other furiously, I've never had a better friend in all the world, Teddy. And even if you were to one day turn away from me and to someone better, I doubt I would not be able to find anyone else who could make me laugh so hard or** [words crossed out with furious lines.]**

You are the finest friend I've ever had. Please don't lose your faith in me entirely.

---

5.

JO:

If ever you've cared for me, if ever you've **[word crossed out harshly]** been my friend sincerely, keep me in the dark no longer. These few days have been agony and I need to know why you've been keeping us apart, yourself in purdah and myself in purgatory. I cannot stop thinking of you and whatever mad schemes you may be up to, and how you may be tying yourself in ridiculous knots presently. I feel under no obligation to you and if I am tied to you in any way, I am wholly willing. There is no one else in the world who knows me the way you do-- no grandfather, no college chum, no flowery mademoiselle, no maid in waiting-- and certainly no one else who can drive me to distraction so easily! I have told you what I would never had told others in a million years and it is only fair for you to be honest with me now. Your word for mine, your hand in mine-- it's only fair to your boy here.

If you are my friend, if you care for me as much as you say you do, you will be honest with me. Tell me why you keep away from me. Tell me why you have not even let me come to you. Tell me why you've held yourself apart and not even left the house recently. Tell me why you have been sending little Beth to deliver your letters, of all strange and convoluted things!

Jo, if you care in the least, I want you to t_ell me_ why I am suddenly such a danger to you. I refuse to believe it's all up to your Aunt-- there must be something of the rebellious girl I **[word furiously blotted out]** knew in you still. You ought not bend to mere pressure so easily!

--Laurie

P. S.-- I couldn't lose my faith in you even if I wanted to, Jo. By now, it's more than second nature. It's on my skin and in my bones and free flowing in my body. You've infiltrated me now and there's no letting go. There's no medicine that could even hope to possibly uproot you from me.

---

6.

Dear Teddy:

I'm sorry I didn't write back sooner. I've done enough disappointing already and I seem only to be compounding my errors when it comes to your company. It's simply that I wanted to spend some time thinking about this before I replied back to you, and thinking very, very hard. I hardly had the choice to do otherwise when it comes to matters this strange and thorny. And I will try to be as honest and good and sincere as I can, Teddy, I swear I will. I know you want answers from me, just as well as I know that you deserve them completely. And I will try, with every fiber of my being, to give them to you as soon as I can figure out what they are myself.

But that's the difficult part. Because-- and you must forgive me if I'm wrong about this, if I have let my ego and nerve drive me to the point of being self-aggrandizing and ridiculous, if I am being irrepressibly vain and let my own pride in myself take full sway--

I am being an idiot in thinking this and surely you will agree the next time you see my blushing, ridiculous, absolutely mortified face.

Only.

Somehow I don't think I am wrong about this.

Because Teddy-- even if I am wrong-- even if my Aunt's words meant nothing and even dear Bethy's confirmation had been nothing more than a fit of temporary madness--

I think you mean to marry me.

And I'm not sure why that is, exactly.

And even though I hope to God that I'm wrong and everyone around me is as well--

It's between us every time we meet. It's been there for the longest time, and I feel as though all of a sudden, I've discovered it unexpectedly. It's suddenly become something I can't ignore-- not when I have my whole life riding on it because of an offer, not when everyone around me says the same, not when I have all the incentive in the world to run away and none at all to stride forward, to confirm in absolutely.

I think it's been there for a very long time, only you've never told me. I think it's always been there in the way you look at me, the way the light catches your eyes when you smile, and the way you curve your lips toward me. It's there in the way you touch me, in the way you run your fingers through my hair and let me hold your arm when we walk and press your hands to my back, as though to keep me steady. And certainly it was there in your mouth when we met last and you ended up

**[The last few words of the sentence are inked out furiously.]**

Forgive me. I am a novelist through and through and when I am at a loss for words, I simply pile them on all the more eagerly.

It all points to one thing even though reality-- everything _about_ our reality-- should point to another and Teddy, I'm just-- I am so hopelessly confused as to what's going on that I could practically collapse into a fainting couch hard enough to make you laugh at me endlessly!

So if-- especially if-- you think I'm a hopeless, naive, ridiculous dolt who's merely succumbed to some sort of cabin fever and made up a mad love story to star in despite the fact that she's doomed to be a spinster-- you ought to tell me. Because for the last few weeks, I've been tearing my hair out with the most outlandish fantasies possible and I need you to be the friend that you are and bring me back down to earth. Teddy, I need you to tell me that I'm wrong and everyone else is wrong and that what I thought I saw was just a mirage, just a half-done fantasy. And even though I'm so ashamed about my own thoughts that I don't even know if I'll eventually leave this note in our usual spot for you to see, I need your honest as I've never had before, over and above anything.

Teddy, please tell me I'm simply being an idiot with all my preposterous suppositions about claiming you, heart and hand. Please tell me I'm merely imagining something grand where you were only having a spot of fun, kissing an old friend merely to make sure that she didn't die without a boy having pecked her lips once in yesteryear.

I know I've made a ridiculous and unnecessary mess of things due to my own cowardice and nothing more, dear friend, but I know you can help me clean up the mess as quickly as you please.

Surely we could go back to rearranging the world in a way that makes sense currently?

Your Friend,

Jo

P. S. You make me sound like a venereal disease! That is _not_ exactly the most polite comparison to make currently!

---

7.

Queerest Jo:

You imagine nothing. You've always had the clearest eyes in all the world and if I could, I would see everything through them, see all the hidden prisms and metaphors and poetry that have already eluded me in all that I've pass through already.

Tomorrow night, I'll wait for you by our old oak. Please come and see me in person.

Yours,

Laurie

---

8.

Teddy:

I can't. I couldn't. I'm sorry. I know I am the basest and cruelest coward but I'm sorry. I couldn't see you and say no directly so even if it is the height of cruelty to refuse through this medium, I must. I can't. Not now and not ever again. I'm sorry.

You deserve better and one day, I'm sure, you will realize it and even thank me for it completely.

And even if I am cruel, I will never cease to be:

Your Friend,

Jo

---

9.

Jo:

I waited for you. I'll keep waiting for you. Every night by our old oak tree, the one you let me chase you around a thousand times before. I haven't caught you yet but who knows? Perhaps one day you'll catch me.

I don't deserve any better and even if I did, I would reject it in your favor with every breath in my being. I may only be barely past my own adolescent years but if there's one thing I've learned about love from my own heritage, it is that it's always less about what you deserve than what you win and what you fight for.

And I'll fight for you, here and now. I'll fight for you because I think that if you truly understood why I love you, you'd fight for me too. All I want now is the chance to see you again, to explain the how and the why of my affection directly to you. And if afterward you would tell me no from those very same lips, Jo, then I would forever abandon my pursuit and let all the world fall away from me.

If you don't love me, if you want nothing of me, then I at least want you to say so directly. It's the least you can do.

Your Faithfully,

Laurie

P. S. It's not a change. It's a continuation of what was long happening.

---

10.

Dear Teddy:

You are being absolutely ludicrous, did you know that? Absolutely ludicrous and out of your mind with the most bewildering of all possible planning! How can you want to do this? What on earth are you planning? Can you imagine us, years into the future, actually being _married_? I suppose my absolute lack of any sort of domestic skills will be the toast of your future social circle and all that time spent entertaining and worrying about fitting in will make me a brilliant novelist eventually.

We would be miserable together and I know you realize it as well as I do. You need someone polished in your life-- someone beautiful and refined and calm and charming, someone who _wouldn't_ make you a laughing stock in front of your grand circle in later years. And I want-- I need-- room to grow as a writer, my independence, some experience, some time

**[the rest of the paragraph is left blank, as though abandoned hastily]**

What can you be thinking? How can you ask me turn you down knowing that **[words inked out darkly, with the rest of the script proceeding shakily] **this is for the best, that I don't want to hurt you, only show you that if we were together, maybe we could be happy for awhile but after that, Teddy--

Afterwards, we would be miserable. And a few years of loving each other, of being in each other's lives completely, wouldn't be worth it. We are far better as friends than anything else, Teddy.

No matter what else you might say. And no matter what else I may feel.

Your Friend,

Jo

P. S. You don't mean that. You _can't_ mean that. Everything would alter completely.

---

11.

Dearest Jo:

I've praised your vision before, haven't I? In which case, I take it back because as wonderful as you are and as keen as you can be, sometimes you can be the blindest person I've ever had the pleasure to meet.

What in the world made you think in the first place that something as boring as mere domestic skills could come to enchant me and make me happy in my later years? I won't not even deign to speak of the topic of physical beauty-- I've never found good looks very interesting and I don't care whether or not _other_ people think you are pretty-- but I'm nearly offended that you thought some rudimentary ability to plan proper dinner parties would be enough to recommend a wife to me. You seem to believe that I want nothing more than the life my grandfather led: to be trapped in an inert marriage to a woman other people would approve of, to waste my life away laboring over numbers that say so much less than musical notation, to wake up every day knowing that everything shall be all the same and all the wonder has already drained away and I will be a gray man with gray hair and a gray face, wondering where my youth went and if anything of interest shall happen to me.

I don't want to be the man my grandfather is, although I know now that it would kill him if I was another disappointment. When my father ran away with my mother, it nearly brought about his death; I can't hurt the old man any further knowing this.

But that doesn't mean I want to be him, Jo. That doesn't mean I want to follow exactly in his rigid footsteps.

I love you. Now that you know it, I find I can confess it without needing to blank it out any more in my letters, hoping not to scare. I love you. And I love you. And I _love_ you. So much so that my hand trembles as I finally pen these words without needing to resort to ruse. I want to live with you and I want to die with you and I want to _everything_ with you-- and this is not despite but _because_ of the fact that you have absolutely nothing conventional in or about you.

I will do some of the things my grandfather wants me to do. I will graduate from his choice of school. I will go to Europe and I will settle in London for a time and I will learn about his business, as he has begged me to. I will be a proper Mr. Laurence and at least until I know I have no more chances at disappointing him, I will do my best to play a part that suits me ill.

But I want what my parents had as well, Jo. I want their love and their laughter and their way of going on in a world that had little or no use for them.

I've never really spoken to you about them, I know. I've never trusted myself to. There are some days when I feel as though they've become little more than a blur to me, little more than a ghostly pair of faces in my memory, backed up by my grandfather's assertions that my Italian mother-- the woman who stole my father away, the woman who convinced him to stray from the ancestral home and the age-old destiny-- was also the death of his only son, the boy he had loved and who had left him. And I doubt you know any more of the story than the blurred outlines: the couple in love, the man who ran away, the child that was reclaimed after they wasted away artistically.

There was so much more to them than that, though. They were young and ridiculous and feckless and impudent and wanted nothing to do with polite society.

More than anything, they taught me to look beyond the circumscribed boundaries of the world for much better things.

I wish you could have met my mother. She would have loved you completely. She had the most curled hair in the world, and refused to powder her face or put on rouge and always held me by the hand, even when I protesting at being too much a man for such things. She was an indifferent cook and an even worse house-keeper and if I play the piano now, it is partly for the sake of her memory. She would have hated to know that I had given up on what made me happy merely for the sake of the rest of the world. She would have thought it a betrayal of everything she had been teaching me.

I wish you could have met my father. He would have adored you as well, and just as ferociously. He hated mathematics and thought business was rubbish and taught me how to put on a proper tie, and how to make the perfect escape if I needed to leave someone's thoroughly irritating side, and you would have been the daughter he had never had. He would have loved to help you put our your plays and been happy to be drunkard, pirate or even maid. He thought the world put too many divisions between the proper and the pure. Your writing would have delighted him completely.

You thought I was a captive when you first met me and you weren't wrong. My chains are with me now but they are invisible; I think only you can set me free.

I love you, Jo, and I want to marry you. I know I cannot except a yes now-- not when you have so much else in the world to confront already. But tell me, at least, if I have a glimmer of hope in the future; tell me if I truly do deceive myself into believe you could, someday far from now, love me in a way that goes beyond mere friendship and into the spirit of matrimony. Because if you do not care-- if you are indifferent rather than afraid-- then let me know.

I love you and I always will. But I can accept the inevitable, if that is as you will to me.

Yours,

Laurie

---

12.

Dearest Teddy:

I'm sorry for not seeing you, and for not writing. I'm sorry for neglecting you for another week. It's strange to know that even though I am meant to be the writer between the two of us, your words seem to currently outstrip mine in length, eloquence and honesty. I have been reading and re-reading your last letter for the past few days, mining it for words of wisdom, looking desperately for understanding. I don't know if I can reach it just yet but at the least, I can do my best to be the friend you need me to be.

A few weeks back, Teddy, my Aunt March asked me to come to Europe with her as a companion, at least as much because she wants the two of us to part as anything. She told me that she will pay for my passage, and that Amy will come as well so I wil not always be tied to her beck and heel. She told me she would take me to England and Italy and France and Spain, all the countries I wanted to see. She told me she would let me write up a storm as much as I liked, as long as I obeyed her by coming down to a few society functions and 'trying (these are her words) not to disgrace myself constantly.'

She told me she loved me as the irascible, temperamental, irritating daughter that she had never had, and that she wanted me to avoid all the mistakes she had made previously.

She told me that after her death, she wanted to leave me Plumfield, so I could be my own woman even if no one else wanted me to.

She told me she wanted me to see more of the world before I tied myself to anything-- or anybody.

She told me she had a price for all that she was willing to do, and that I must listen carefully.

She told me that I wasn't to marry you yet, and that I ought to give you leave to see other women before we ended up together out of general impetuousness and made each other unhappy. And I think she was right to tell me so, even though I know you would never consciously lie to me.

I think I want to take her up on her offer. I think I ought to do as she tells me.

But this isn't because I don't-- care for you. To be honest, Teddy, I don't know precisely what I feel toward you. I don't know what moves in me when I think of your smile or your laugh or your solemn sighs, the way you kissed me and tumbled me in your arms before my aunt interfered. Whatever I feel, it's not indifference. It's not and I don't think it could ever be.

It's just that I'm not ready for what you're ready for, and I don't want to break your heart or give you false hope. I don't know when I'll be ready to say yes to you. I may never be. I don't know if I'll ever even want to marry. I don't know if I'll be happier being my own woman rather than anyone else's. I don't know if I could ever fit into the glittering world you'll enter sooner or later, even if you don't mean to here.

I need you to give me time, Teddy, and some space. To understand who I am and to understand who I need to be.

But even given all that-- one day, in Europe or in Massachusetts or in New York or the wilds of Egypt-- one day, I hope we'll find each other again and come to a conclusion about what ought to happen.

And who knows? Perhaps I shall shock you completely by one day-- when I am a famous, important, even _iconic_ writer of many upon many upon many classics-- getting down on _my_ knee to do all the proposing.

But until then-- the next move is yours. Given all that I've just confessed, do you even still wish to see me?

Your Friend Forever,

Jo

---

13.

Dearest Josephine:

Forgive me if I hands tremble as I write this-- it's either from nerves or from the certain knowledge that the next time we meet might well find me in physical agony from using this greeting. I know you've warned me before but I cannot repress it, any more than I can repress the idiot smile that takes over my face very time I think of you.

Of course I want to see you, just as much as I will follow every wish you ever so much as whisper to me. If you want to go to Europe, if you want to become a better writer, if you want to take your aunt's challenge on and find yourself in another land--

Of _course_ I would be happy to see you do all of the above and more, you adorable, ludicrous, magnificent little thing! Of course I would-- not just because I love you but because I want to see you happy as well. Wanting to be with you, and measuring my life through you, doesn't also mean that I want to own you, or keep you chained, or lock you into something purely because you feel you have no alternative _not_ to.

I want you to do what makes you happy and if keeping my distance for a few months would accomplish that, I would be happy to. But if I am to do precisely as you want me to, I have my price as well. I want to see you one last time before you leave on your grand European adventure, before I see you again and find some way to make you chase _me_, as you already promised to.

I want to see you so that I can tell you that no wife of mine would ever be one without a good and honest livelihood, so you had better sharpen your literary skills before the masses before I even think of properly saying a yes to you.

I want to see you so I can tell you to go to Europe and to meet me there and to have all the experiences you need so that when we meet again, you'll know enough of the world to know whether to propose straight off, or dither a bit like you usually do.

So for the next week, I'll be waiting every day from eight to nine by moonlight at our old oak.

Come see me so I can shake some sense into you.

Come see me so I can tell you in person that I love you.

Come see me so I can hold you one last time, and kiss good luck into you.

Come see me so that you know that I'll be waiting, and I have all the patience in the world when it comes to a girl like you.

Love,

Completely,

Absolutely,

Utterly,

And Ridiculously,

(I may as well write all my endearments while I still have the chance),

Your Forever Faithful Laurie

P. S. I'm giving you a deadline of a week. Otherwise, come hell or high water, I shall storm the battalions of Josephineland with more than a _gallon_ of rouge!

---

14.

Dear Laurie:

(Be prepared to duck during our next meeting!)

Tomorrow night, by moon-light, at the old oak. You may be hopelessly presumptuous, my boy, but you deserve at least a throttle in person for waiting for me so long. You are either the most patient or most blinkered person I have ever met, I swear to you.

Yours,

Jo

P. S. Go ahead with the application. You look fair enough with some color that it couldn't hurt your chances much, to tell the truth.

---


	8. Ch 8 Black Magik Woman

Amy poked the fire with her sister's latest missive to Laurie reduced to ash reflecting brilliantly in her blue eyes. She wished she could burn all the letters, just like she burned Jo's precious book of fairy tales. Amy never felt so angry and wronged in her life. The spirited, yet hushed conversations between her Aunts Carroll and March first piqued her interest. Then learning of Aunt March's choice of Jo as her travel companion sparked jealousy. Finally, intercepting every passionate letter that Laurie and Jo had recently exchanged fanned the jealousy to ire.

_Why Jo?_ Amy wondered as she stared into the flames. Tall, awkward, tomboyish Jo. Jo is as graceful as an unbroken colt, yet Aunt March chose her to be her travel companion. All the toiling under Aunt March's tutelage for naught! Amy bore her aunt's exacting instructions meekly and without complaint, desirous to become a proper lady and a credit to the March name. Hadn't Aunt March remarked that Amy would be the most suitable travel companion scarcely a fortnight ago? Only to have rash, feckless Jo snatch the European voyage from her grasp. Jo couldn't sit still if her life depended on it, and couldn't make herself agreeable to anyone of consequence. Amy did recall reading in one of Jo's letters that Aunt was to bring both sisters with her to Europe, but as the days passed with nary a word from Aunt, Amy knew she would not be included in Aunt's travel entourage. Amy began to wonder the soundness of her aunt's mind, and could not help but wallow in the petulance of having something deservedly hers taken so suddenly and unfairly away.

Amy's cheeks burned, but the flush was not from her sitting in front of the fire. She burned at the recollection of the passionate, romantic declarations of love Laurie bestowed upon her sister. What on earth does Laurie see in Jo? Handsome, gentlemanly Laurie. Anyone with eyes could see Amy would be a far better match for him. Amy could sit through hours of proper conversation with a pleasant smile and respond with pretty witticisms with ease. She would never be the blunderbuss Jo is when out in company. Yet Laurie has declared his love for her irascible sister. Amy could only conclude that Laurie is strangely bewitched.

Amy remembered how Laurie's beautiful, dark eyes were filled with concern when he fished her out of the freezing river. She remembered him comforting her so tenderly when she thought Beth would be lost to them forever. Remembering his genuine gestures of affection toward her convinced Amy that Laurie could love her if given the right opportunity and without the distraction of Jo. Jo may have taken Amy's rightful trip to Europe, but Amy is determined to use Jo's absence to her utmost advantage. Her eye fell upon the line of Jo's corded trunks along the wall, awaiting the porter early in the morning. She then glanced up at the clock on the mantel. It's time, Amy thought as she stood up and crept noiselessly upstairs.

**oxo**

Jo stood in her room with her stomach knotted in anticipation. At long last, she was about to meet Laurie! She regretted drawing out their meeting until the eve of her trip, but with her mind and heart in such a tumble, Jo felt she could not meet him until she can master her wits and emotions.

_"Come see me so I can tell you in person that I love you."_ Jo's heart beat faster as she recalled his words, written in a shaky, emotional hand. Her senses reeled with the memory of their all too brief kiss. She wondered about the next kiss, knowing they would not be interrupted and her face promptly burned as bright as a poppy. _Stop acting like a ninny! _Jo scolded herself.

At that moment, a series of wrenching, hacking coughs rent through the tranquility of the household. "Dear God, Beth!" Jo cried out as she bolted frantically from her room to her sister's. Beth was sitting up in bed, vainly trying to stifle the violent coughs that were wracking her frail body. The whole household scattered to find items to put Beth at ease, while Jo sat next to her sister and tried her best to comfort her. Never had they heard such horrible coughing since her illness.

Amy deftly pushed a pillow under her bed before trotting downstairs under the pretense of fetching some water. She had switched Beth's regular cotton-filled pillow with a goose down one knowing the feathers would bring on a coughing fit.

Two hours later, Jo gazed down at Beth sleeping peacefully by her side, relieved she hadn't suffered a relapse. Once tucked into Jo's own bed, Beth's coughs miraculously subsided. Jo glanced anxiously out the window. In all the confusion of the evening and with Jo due to leave with Aunt March right before dawn to catch the steamer ship from Boston, Jo was unable to meet with or send word to Laurie.

"I won't be able to send word to him until I'm on the boat," Jo sighed regretfully. "Dear Teddy, please forgive me!"

* * *

**A/N: **I am back after a long hiatus. Hopefully I won't stray from the fandom for so long again! Time to get this story moving again. :-)


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